


In Fen'Harel's Graces

by BoPeepWithNoSheep



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Agents of Fen'Harel, Brief mentions of torture, F/M, Gen, benevolent boss solas, my dalish couple are smoopy in love and I'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7069264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoPeepWithNoSheep/pseuds/BoPeepWithNoSheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dread Wolf cares for his agents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Fen'Harel's Graces

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:   
> Thanks to Cole's comments in trespasser, we already know that Solas considered one of his agents, Felassan, a friend. And despite his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad plan, Solas does care deeply about people. So gimme some Benevolent Boss Solas, who spends his time between missions hovering and fretting over his spies in that low-key, understated way of his. Gimme some agents that he lifted up from nothing, and who really admire him or that. Gimme some Fen'Harel, who, despite all his big talk about doing whatever it takes, decides in one case, to choose the lives of his agents over the success of the mission (of course, he'll say that he did it because he plans to use them later for something more important, or b/c it would be a waste of the resources he spent training them, or w/e excuse he manages to come up with). Gimme Solas, who is finally with his people, and despite his attempts not to get attached, fails completely.

Faelen is an interesting man, particularly interesting for one of the Dalish in that he’s thrown in his lot with the Dread Wolf. They have always been the hardest to win over, the fear and distrust of his name so deeply ingrained thus Solas hadn’t been quite sure what to think when the affable man with Ghilan’nain’s vallaslin clang to his truths so closely. Faelen would work a mission, always with the quick and efficient skills of a hunter, then vanish for weeks at a time. Still, despite any misgivings, Solas did his best to interact with his agents when he could and Faelen, though odd, was not so terribly different.

It all started when he asked about removing the man’s vallaslin, he’d never heard him speak of other Dalish and the young man had fallen in so easily with the city elves Solas had believed him a clear deserter. However, the only response he receives is an awkward laugh, a wry smile, and a shake of the man's head. “You know, my wife can be a little dense on noticing details but that’s one I’m almost positive she’d catch. I’ll be happy to take you up on that offer later though, once I’ve explained everything to her.”

He overhears Faelen invited out to drinks with his other agents on more than one occasion but excuses himself more often than not. A particularly notable occasion being when he had returned from a mission successful with a large sack of lemons. “Ah, my birdy-vhen expects me home soon. Being a lone hunter only lets me out for so long without suspicion. Thanks for the lemons though, she’s been incessant about cravings. You know how it goes.”

Life continues on as it always does until one day his agent arrives late to a predetermined location to check in before a mission. Solas almost believes he won’t come when suddenly the dalish bursts from the fauna panting heavily and clearly frayed around the edges. When Solas inquires to his tardiness Faelen only gives a tight lipped shake of his head. “There was an incident, had to move the clan--It’s been taken care of.”

It takes hours on the way to their destination to needle out the story, his wife had been attacked by Templars, had killed both of them but had barely made it back. They’d had to move camp immediately for risk of retaliation. In retrospect Solas should have called off the mission at that moment. Postponed it or found someone besides the clearly exhausted man before him to perform it but Faelen insists otherwise and they are off.

It takes exactly one hour for the mission to self-destruct rather spectacularly. Faelen captured and two more agents dead. It is only a quick infiltration on his part assisted by his own magical barriers that gets Faelen out with his life, if not in one piece. Three of his fingers and four teeth are missing by the time he finds him, chunks of his dark hair lay discarded on the ground and he’s bleeding from so many cuts to his face it’s hard to tell the pallor of his skin.

Still, despite his injuries as soon as he’s cognizant enough to recognize his rescuer, Faelen gives Solas what, at any other time, would have been a stunning roguish grin. Gap toothed and bloody it only serves to remind Solas just how badly he’s miscalculated.

Solas knows he could have, arguably should have, used the distraction not for extraction of personnel but instead  extraction of information--However, it was his own lack of judgement that had caused the deaths of two of his agents, he was not about to allow a third to die for nothing. He returns to his base bearing more than just the weight of one man. Faelen is quickly set up within the small medical bay and he bids to agents he knows are close to the Dalish to set out to procure one more asset.

The young Dalish woman ushered into the room several days later is exactly as Faelen had always described, often in sickeningly sweet detail, in all but name. She is tall for an elf, taller than Faelen by at least five inches, and wears Dirthamen’s vallaslin in bold red across her brow and curving aquiline nose. _Birdy-vhen indeed_ , Solas thinks wryly. Most notably however is the large swell of her stomach that prompt two of his agents to assist her in settling down at Faelen’s bedside.

From his tucked away corner he can faintly hear her grumbles, stubborn admonishments against those assisting her. That she is more than capable of sitting on her own, that they should focus their attentions on Faelen. Her face, only moments ago pinched in irritation dissolves to near tears as shaking hands trace the curve of his face along the gashes cut over his vallaslin. Solas laments that truly he will have no chance of ever removing them completely, explanation towards the woman before him or not. She watches her husband for moments that feel like hours before one of his agents nudges her gently and gestures towards where he is most definitely not hiding in the corner alcove.

All at once her sharp eyes are upon him and he can believe her a woman who slaughtered two Templars while smited, barehanded, and heavily pregnant only two days prior. Then her expression softens and he knows she is the kind, if stoic, woman that Faelen is so obviously in love with. Her eyes are only on him for a moment before trailing back to her husband as she takes his bandaged hand carefully in hers and moving them both to rest on her stomach.

Her words are so soft he strains to hear them, “I am told that you saved him, I am in your debt.”

Solas smiles softly and moves to take the seat on the opposite side of the bed. The woman looks so weary and worn down it makes Solas’ heart ache. The fact that he had been able to present the woman with her husband at all is only a minor balm to the feeling. Faelen was a good agent, a great one even, when working at his peak condition. Fen’harel would not allow this to happen again. Solas focused back on the current situation, if this woman was even half the woman Faelen had described her then she would make just as great an ally.

“My name is Solas and when he wakes up I believe Faelen would like to explain to you what happened. In the meantime, however, may I ask what you know about the Dread Wolf?”

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt I wrote for the DA kink meme forever ago that I somehow forgot about until recently.


End file.
